THERE ARE plenty of good coaches that worked hard to train runners in Sunday’s Dipsea Race, the legendary 7.5-mile footrace from Mill Valley to Stinson Beach. But there are fewer that will go the extra mile in the lives of their athletes once they have crossed the finish line.

Novato resident and running guru Frank Ruona, 65, is one of those coaches.

Ever since he moved to Marin 23 years ago, the senior vice president for Ghilotti Brothers Inc. has been active in the local running scene, evolving from a runner to an advocate and coach. He served as the president of the Tamalpa Runners — the largest running club in Marin — from 2002-’05 and has led the San Quentin 1,000-mile club, a running group for prisoners at San Quentin State Prison, since 2005.

So when Dipsea participant Ronnie Goodman, 50, was parolled from prison in October after serving eight years for burglary, Ruona vowed to continue coaching him as a free man, a promise that extends far beyond the race this Sunday.

“I believe that we are all our brother’s keepers. I’ve been pretty fortunate in my life with opportunities,” Ruona said. “I see him as having lived a tough life. If I can help him get his life together, I’d like to help him.”

Goodman and Ruona met in 2005 when Ruona volunteered to head up the prison’s program at the request of founder Laura Bowman-Salzsieder, the prison’s community partnership manager.

Ruona mentored Goodman through the running program while he was an inmate and has helped him since his release by entering him in races, feeding him occasional meals, sending him literature and serving as a positive figure is his life.

“He teaches me that what you put in, you get out,” Goodman said. “He’s a hard worker and by seeing that, it makes me believe in myself. “… I look at him to lead by example.

Like any good teacher, Ruona uses the subject, in this case running, as a means to teach important lessons like discipline to Goodman.

“It’s added some structure to his life by putting together a training program,” Ruona said. “He’s trying hard to do things right.”

Through his work at the prison, Ruona has been able to motivate other prisoners to use running as a focal point of their recovery too.

“Since I’ve been over there I find that the inmates really appreciate it,” Ruona said. “They’ve been a lot of fun to work with and they appreciate the fact that I’m over there helping them out.”

From the first time he stepped onto the prison grounds, Ruona and his running club has been a hit.

“He came in the first time and hasn’t left,” Bowman-Salzsieder said. “There is no one like Frank. It would not be what it is without Frank. “… He is an icon.”

Ruona and the inmates achieved their biggest accomplishment last year when they ran a marathon, inspired by Goodman and under Ruona’s tutelage.

“Ronnie Goodman wanted to run the marathon and the other guys said, ‘Hey we want to give it a try too,'” Ruona said, of the 105-lap race around the prison yard. “We did 3 (miles), then 6, then an hour, then a half marathon, then two hours and finally the marathon. Some of them were having trouble running 1 or 2 miles at first, but they built up to 26 miles.”

The program became much more than just a way for inmates to stay fit and even has bylaws and an organized structure.

“The program goes beyond recreation,” Bowman-Salzsieder said, adding that the club is more formal than normal prison activities because it is an official Inmate leisure-time activity. “Because Frank is here consistently it serves its purpose in getting the guys to set long-term goals and achieve them.”

Ruona didn’t start running himself until he was 40, but his career has been put on pause indefinitely after he sustained a micro-fracture in his hip in 2003.

“When I turned 40 I found that I was a competitive age group runner,” Ruona said. “I was competitive runner in my 40s and in my 50s and up until I fractured my hip. I enjoyed the competition and I enjoyed running for the club.”

His remarkable longevity and commitment to running is something Goodman hopes he can emulate a few years down the line.

“I look at Frank and say, ‘I’d like to do what he does at his age.’ When you get older you don’t have to stop doing what you’re doing,” Goodman said. “I feel like I’m 50 and just getting started.”